


Rest Thy Heart

by Peacockery



Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Character Study, Drama, Fluff, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Monsters, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 22:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16900719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peacockery/pseuds/Peacockery
Summary: There are many lessons to withstand and storms to brave as the new Duke of Puzzles. Loyalty must be conditioned and unwavering, thinks the King. But it can also be instinctive and worth blooming, counters the Prince.Rouxls simply doesn't know where to stand on it. But he is wise and above all, very much needed by the royal family.





	Rest Thy Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually two different writing prompts I had been working on, so I decided to merge them together with a segue in the middle. I hope it all runs as smoothly as I have reread it.
> 
> I guess this can be considered to be a prequel to Silkworm. It's more of my first attempt to explore the world of Deltarune based on what I've seen and heard, long before I even wrote Rouxls' revenge on the King. 
> 
> Unlike the goofier, more whimsical atmosphere of the game, this is overall not a happy-centered ficlet and is more of a blind character study.

Thine big paws, they constricted thyst arms.

 

The back of his head started to feel damp from the infernal heat of his king’s breath. His own blue tongue quivered dryly behind his grinding teeth, of which felt a great and uneasy pressure within their cores. His entire body ached; it all budded in the intense pressure of the tyrant’s grips around his wrists and trickled down his arms in a numbed tingle that welled within his heart. Rouxls’ could feel the sting of discomfort from the budding tears threatening to well up in his eyes.

 

He was being dangled like a puppet, inches above the ground which felt so far away from the panicked frenzy building up in his head. He kicked and squeaked like a rabbit in a snare, only exciting the cruel behemoth keeping him restrained. 

 

**“Do not fail me, you miniscule grub.”** Came the low grumble hissing into one of his ears. He trembled at the feeling of the King’s gut mouth nipping tensely into the fabric of his lower back. 

 

The esteemed position of Duke of Puzzles surely had to be granted to him upon reason: he was charming. He was clever. Everyone else was rotting in cages or cast off into spots of darkness where even he chose not to tread. The King had to have seen something of value in him. It had to have meant  **something** in a terrible moment such as this.

 

_ “T-thou shall worry’st not!”  _ He tittered, hoping his tone would satisfy. His answer only tightened the pained grip set upon his arms, and he was thrust up even higher into the air. At this point he felt his eyes starting to melt as the pain was blending into a numbed pleasantness that made his head spin; he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. The King carried him like that around the darkened room, denying him the sweet release of touching the ground. Rouxls exhaled in a shaking whine as his own feet lost all sensation of feeling.  _ “I-I-I shan’t! Anything! A-Anything for you, melord!” _

 

He could hear his own heartbeat slowing in his ears while the last remnants of nerves in his fluttering belly prickled at something thick and snakelike encircling around his waist. The snugness was tightened as finally, at last, the intense grip along his wrists subsided. He slumped against the purring monster while trying to suck in fresh breaths again. His vision was beyond fucked from the swimming pressure rushing away from his head and the trickling stream of tears spilled out from his eyes. The tether kept him flush against his tormentor, snug yet gentle in a bastard feeling similar to a fond embrace. The thick stomach against his back jiggled as a rich laugh gurgled out from the terrible monarch. 

  
  
**“Remember your loyalties,** **duke** **.”** The King lightly grazed his teeth along the messy dampness of white hair. The shift from torment to mock comfort broadcasted a fake sense of care, and Rouxls fell into that trap as expected; the little bootlicker curled into the thick strength of the tongue whip plastering him to his master’s belly. He trembled and whimpered like the little worm he was, and even presented a wavering coo when the massive monster crocked a large claw to draw his chin upwards. The King reveled in the destroyed look of happy obedience messing up that pretty face.  **“I need you.”** He kept his tone soft. It lit forth a twinkle of hope in those glassy eyes.  **“Do not hurt me, Duke.”** The cruel beast crooned, wavering his pitch to resemble heartbreak.

 

His toothy grin debuted in a wide stretch as he watched a brainwashed nod and dreamy smile. Rouxls rubbed at his eyes and started dribbling out some broken nonsense in that irritating construction of gibberish, but he obediently stayed put once his master slowly lowered him to the ground and unraveled the slimy tether from around him. Naive little fool...nothing but a pretty face and rocks in his head.

 

He was perfect.

 

\-----

 

The days were rough for a Puzzle Master. But, clear as crystal, his King had said his intentions so eloquently: the Duke was needed. The Duke was desired.

 

The punishment was just a firm reminder and nothing more between the fine print. There  _ was _ no fine print. It had been just a stern talking to and his master simply didn’t know his strength too well! These were things Rouxls had reluctantly convinced himself. Why would his King be so rough and hurtful if he seemed in so desperate need of help? It didn’t make sense, and the sire had no time for fools.

 

He had learned to convince himself of many things. He had to remember that as Duke, he was to be wise and prepared but also dutiful upon request.He had to be obedient and true even as his master’s eyes weren’t upon him. As Duke, he was now above the help in terms of title...and as such, there was no longer any tolerance to feeding them behind the King’s back. That was the teaching point of today’s rough lesson. To him, the King had his own rules and his own methods of why certain monsters were to be kept in line; it never occurred to Rouxls’ seemingly brilliant mind that the tyrant was terrified beyond all else of a rebellion forming within his own walls. 

 

Sometimes, they just happened to start with feeding scraps from the table.

 

Rouxls tightened his brows in a restrained wince as he felt old pains resurfacing from his wrists. Each spike throbbed hard enough to rocket through his body and burst into millions of tinier pains inside his head. He felt each pulse swimming inside his heartbeats to settle into the pit of his belly. The sensations made his eyeballs hurt as he tenderly kneaded along the bruises. 

 

At this point in the evening, he had his hair pulled up into a messy ponytail. It was for the better, as every lurch of discomfort he gave would have just swept his bangs right into the sweat along his forehead. He told himself that the tears were happy ones; he will endure anything for his king. Because...the King said he needed him...Rouxls wondered just how many storms he could weather to show he was tough and loyal and ingenious and dependable. 

 

Once his body settled back into a tolerable state, he slumped against his pillows and rubbed at his leaking eyes.

 

\-----

 

Something was nudging against his back.

 

The Duke bristled underneath his midnight covers and blearily clawed at his pillow. A few minutes later, he felt it again. His sluggish mind suggested that perhaps this was what those annoying night terrors felt like, just like the ones the good King made even goodlier promise on; that lug had a way with threats.

 

Rouxls waited for a few moments before he reluctantly loosened up in a tired huff. It was far too late to deal with such nonsensical follies; his pulse had finally slowed to a peaceful state.

 

Three minutes later, he felt a sudden jab being applied to his lower back.

 

The blankets rocketed off of him as he shot upright, tearing the laced sleeping mask from his eyes as a snarl of mixed agitation and shock barked into the room. His glowing eyes pierced the near-pitched darkness of his sleeping space as they shot down to bore dangerous holes into the intruder who dared to enter HIS lair…

 

His glare dropped fast when he saw Lancer staring up at him with an innocent grin, tongue trapped between his teeth. They looked at each other for an unbearably awkward amount of time before the Duke inevitably groaned and fell back onto his mattress. Seconds later, he heard the little gremlin crawling directly next to him. His lip twitched as he felt his sheets being tugged towards a new home.

 

It had been like this for a little over a month now, where the prince would find more and more clever ways to sneak in without Rouxls catching on...at first. The first night nearly earned Lancer a good punting against the nearest wall from the rude wake-up call, but the youngling had somehow convinced him to initiate a slumber party. A week had then passed before the next encounter arose, though now there didn’t seem to be more than a few nights of blessed, slumbering bliss before Rouxls was roused by eerie snuffling or that uncomfortable prickling of being patted on the back.

 

What was the most unsettling sensation, however, was the fact that despite the jumpscares, he was becoming less and less agitated overall by the visits. The prince clearly needed him too, exhausting as that felt. Lancer tested all the smaller buttons that his father couldn’t jam: grabbing onto the Duke’s leg during the day for a quick scoot or demanding snacks. He also enjoyed shoving whatever menial thing he enjoyed into spidery indigo hands. They listened to music together and had tea parties with worms. At some confusing point in this strange little timeline, Rouxls even started sleeping on one specific side of his own damned bed to give the little burglar plenty of space for himself. Lancer was more ornery than a tiger beetle… and Rouxls had to grit his teeth as he watched sweet, sweet order be wrestled away from him by grabby little paws.

 

Tonight he was pouting into his pillow while he listened to the sleepy little hums beside him. He also wasn’t going to have much more blanket to himself at this point.

 

“Thoust writhes like a little grub.” He grumbled, feeling a headache beginning to prickle along the backs of his eyes. As expected, Lancer giggled to himself and nestled up against the tall monster’s back like a kitten to a heating pad.

 

It was starting to feel like the same spiel every night, and that bothered Rouxls. It bothered him that he had no power in his own space bubble, and that he was bothered by the frustrating lack of privacy. The nudging and snorting and ornery kicks to his rib when sleep was a sweet embrace away…that was a torment in itself, but the wanings of his patience brought forth somber thoughts up from the sidewinding paths of his brilliant brain. He was supposed to be wise and a master of deductions. A Duke cannot fail those expectations. Every time Rouxls remembered these thoughts, his lips quivered with cold shame: he was starting to grow fond of the little prince.

 

The mornings were even more bittersweet. Little knees and hands would dip the mattress beside him in a reverberating dip as the prince realized the time and knew he couldn’t stay forever. Lancer knew of the bruises and the pains that the Duke sported, but he never spoke of them. He just knew that there was a warm and forgotten happy feeling of visiting the eccentric noble. Mutually, it was nice to have those fleeting moments of peace returned to him. Every morning with Rouxls brought him to sit upon his pudgy little knees and stare at the door with great reluctance, knowing of the demon that lurked beyond it and hating his young little heart that there wasn’t much he could do to tame it.

 

Rouxls never moved during this time, but Lancer knew he was awake. They would both pay attention to the wobbling movements as he dutifully crawled towards the edge of the bed and clambered down from it. His departing words were always simple yet heartbreaking to the Duke; they bled harder than the lessons the King gave him.

 

But something about them inspired a dawning idea that perhaps loyalties were meant to be shifted.

 

Rouxls held his breath as he listened to the same tiny footsteps pattering to the door. He counted the same number of seconds of silence between them as Lancer struggled to be brave enough to shatter the silence. Every morning that brought them to this moment seemed to create new and different (and terrifyingly rebellious) notions of purpose to the child. Like he was being shepherded out from the shadow of a doomed mountain to walk back into a valley of lights and warmth.

 

There was a small swallow, and the Duke closed his eyes as a broken smile formed on his lips when the prince spoke.

 

_ “Thanks, dad.” _

**Author's Note:**

> If you wish to leave any requests or simply want to reach out to me, check out the links on my profile. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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